


Filthy Apes And Lions

by Negansplumbusinmyrumham



Category: The Walking Dead & Related Fandoms, The Walking Dead (Comics), The Walking Dead (TV)
Genre: Comic Cannon, F/M, Gen, M/M, Multi, Other, Psychological Torture, Sexual Harassment, Sexual Violence Mention, Things are not what they appear, billy mentioned, brave carl, negan playing mind games, not as bad as the tags make it sound, rape off screen but not really, rick being broken, rick lets bad things happen, rick trying to justify shitty things, the rv
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-06
Updated: 2020-01-06
Packaged: 2021-02-27 12:55:34
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death, Rape/Non-Con, Underage
Chapters: 3
Words: 2,396
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22147534
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Negansplumbusinmyrumham/pseuds/Negansplumbusinmyrumham
Summary: Rick still needs to be broken, and Negan makes good on his threat from the comics.
Relationships: Andrea/Rick Grimes, Carl Grimes/Sophia Peletier, Maggie Greene/Glenn Rhee
Comments: 1
Kudos: 10





	1. Super nova shelling [Leaving afterbirth of hell-things]

**Author's Note:**

  * For [staghag](https://archiveofourown.org/users/staghag/gifts).



Glenn was still dripping off the bat. 

Maggie was trying to calm Sophia, but would periodically lose herself and wail into the girl’s shoulder. 

Andrea and Rick had managed to move closer to Carl, who sat between them showing more stunned curiocity than grief. To him, the shine of blood on the bat reminded him of candy apples, his mother’s lipstick left in the car on a summer day, the inside of his uncle’s steak when he cut into it at a family BBQ. It could have been a million different things to the boy but, very quickly, it had stopped being Glenn. Glenn, his friend, was the thing piled limbs over limbs resembling half a spider.

Michone looked between the children. She didn’t look at the body, or the man holding the bat, and certainly not the half-faced minion who stood beside her snapping lighting-bright polaroids. To distract her from the horror, her brain processed a vague passing sadness; one day the film would be too old to develop and she would have to keep everything as a memory. She wished she had pictures of her daughters, whose faces had become one in only a little more than a year.

The man who killed Glenn was screaming inches from Rick’s face about a look he didn’t like.

“I guess I still have to break you, don’t I? I guess you really don’t get it!” It was obvious that he wanted Rick to cry, collapse. 

Rick felt some guilt at not doing so. Another death. There had been so much death, and everybody he knew was going to die if he didn’t first. That was the world they lived in, that was what it meant to be the walking dead. Glenn was gone. Okay. The shock, the lack of shock, Rick could feel a dial inside himself being turned to further mute it all. Since Lori died, the world was becoming foggy and muffled.

He didn’t register the question until it a hand took his chin.

“I said, the boy or the girl?”

“What?” He stared, stupidly, at the hulking figure before him.

“I said I don’t think you’re taking this very seriously, Rick.” Negan spoke low, patient. “We’re going to fix that.”

“What?” There was a second half to the sentence but he didn’t process it.

“Or should I let them take both?”

“What?” It was all he could say. Sounds hit his ears but didn’t make words when they tunneled inside.

“-my men in the camper. Which one?”

Sophia was shrieking, Lurched out of position to cling fully to her mother. The second in command raised his weapon at her.

“You get one, Simon.” Negan said in a warning tone, “Kill it now and you won’t get your fun, will you?”

Then it all started to click into place.

His fun.

The boy or the girl.

Carl looked over to Sophia, not wanting to be separated from his friend.

“They’re… they don’t even know about… about THAT. They don’t know about any of that yet. They’re 8-years-old, just look at them! They’re babies!”

About what, Carl wondered.

“Time they learned, then.” Was the man’s cold answer, “Object lessons stick better, anyway.”

“Please,” Rick couldn’t think of a more useless word, so he supplemented with promises “Anything else, whatever you want.”

“The boy,” Negan asked patiently, “Or the girl?”

It was going to happen to Sophia anyway, he tried to reason. It was a miracle that it had gone so long without, he told himself. He tried to justify it, mind flooded only with the image of his little boy pinned under the highway robber, sobbing with no idea of why he should but knowing that something bad, something worse than dying, maybe the worst thing in the world, was about to be done to him. It was good of them to even keep her around in the first place. It was good of them, of all the men who passed in and out of their lives, to have abstained from her, but wasn’t it her turn? She didn’t belong to anybody, anyway. Maggie wasn’t even her real mom, and ripley pregnant with a new one to fill whatever void should be torn open.

As he was about to condemn her, a small voice next to him answered, “I’ll go, dad.”

“Carl, no!” Rick betrayed the choice he’d already made, and Maggie shot him the most hateful look he’d ever seen, worse than the way she’d looked at Negan when her husband’s eye vacated his skull and all she could do was keep kneeling, not even reach out a hand of comfort in those last gurgling seconds.

“Dad,” Carl argued in his best attempt at a grown-up voice. “Sophia is my friend. What if they hurt her?.”


	2. Crucifying all the eyelids [Illuminate the iris]

The man with the mustache and the one with half a face flanked Carl, each taking an arm as if they were escorting a grown man and not a child who’s sneakered feet dragged and stumbled on tip-toe. He was calm, not even so much as wiggling. He turned to look back at his family, and the hat fell off his head. He tried to stop for it, digging little trenches in the dirt where he made his only attempt a resistance. He felt safe as long as he had his hat. Stripped of it, he felt naked and vulnerable and eight years old.

They disappeared into the RV. The boy didn’t give so much as a backward glance at his family. The little martyr went without the batting of a lash.

“Please,” Out of his son’s sight, rick collapsed like a tent with the pole kicked in. He shrunk into a blubbering mess, bubbles of snot shamelessly expanding out his nose and popping on his cheeks until he looked like a cumshot girl. “Oh god please anything, anything.”

“Anything?”

“Anything.” He repeated, then added “Everything.”

“Nothing I want but this.” He reached down and wiped a clean spot onto Rick’s face with his vinyl glove. 

“Everything!” he repeated, frantic. His pupils buzzed in his eyes like horseflies. “Everything! I’ll go with you, wherever you want. Whatever you want.” Then shamefully, he added “With whoever you want.”

He was aware that Andrea had stopped looking at him. Maggie watched, hands forming earmuffs on the side of Sophia’s head, and Rick felt a shameful rage that she should be protected from anything further. 

The door to the RV opened. A bundle was thrown out: button-up shirt, tiny jeans, boxers with the Muppets on them. He’d complained to Lori that it was a baby print, he was too old for muppets, even though they were a size big on him. Now, thy were so faded from being washed in rivers that the print was barely visible, the last relic of his mother fast fading. 

It was so cold that night.

Carl was naked.

Rick thought, forgetting the context, that he would be so cold without his clothing.

“Everything?”

“Everything.”

“Take you back to the Sanctuary with me, throw you over a barrel and let all my boys have a turn on you?” He taunted.

Rick didn’t even flinch. “Everything.”

“Be a pretty little cock slut?”

“Everything.”

“Always wondered if a guy could survive just eating cum.” He taunted, “You’d make a good test subject. Got those pouty dick-sucking lips.”

A scream from inside the trailer.

“Anything, everything.” Rick repeated, the words having long since become nothing but noise.

Another scream.

“Sounds like they’re splitting your little cyclops in half up the middle.”

“What do you want?”

The screams began to form a rhythm. 

“Hate to admit it, but Simon’s got the biggest cock out of all of us. Wonder if your boy’ll survive it.”

“Please!” That worthless word again.

“Don’t even need lube, pushes in and it gets wet like a pussy from all the blood.”

No plea now, just sobbing, and so Negan added, “Seen him gut a guy before, shook something loose and when he pulled out and the insides came outside. Really a sight, needed a doctor to peel the intestines off his dick.”

“What do you want?” Rick could barely get the words out. The air felt like it wouldn’t enter his lungs, just passed them over.

“Say you’ll be…” Negan thought the words over, “Say you’ll be my dirty little cum-slut”

He repeated the words like a prayer.

“Say you want to take every dick at the sanctuary.”

Another scream.

Rick obeyed.

“Take your shirt off.”

No hesitation. The wind stung and first he thought of Carl, shivering and cold, and then had the sickening thought that the body violating his would be warm.

“All of it,” Negan ran a finger up and down the sight of him, “Strip.”

His hands fumbled with the belt. It was stuck. He began, frantic, to rip the loops off his pants. His nails broke under the fabric, two so far down the quick that there was blood. His pants and boxers pulled down and, still on his knees, he squirmed and bent to kick them free. 

Another scream.

It was so cold. 

Carl didn’t have his clothes.

Rick barely noticed that he didn’t have his, either. His friends had faded away and in the field he only saw himself, Negan, and the RV, which had taken on the life of the three inside of it to become its own entity. 

Negan curled in a finger, signaling for Rick to come closer. The disgraced sheriff stooped to stand and he barked “Stay on your knees!”

Rick shuffled to the man who blotted out the rising sun and realized, in Negan’s shadow, that the man had somehow been large enough to blot out the darkness as well.

“You’re gonna take my dick out.” Negan instructed, “Any you’re gonna suck it.”

Rick dove for the buckle. He fiddled with the clasp, both relieved and dreading that it came undone so easily. When he reached to undo the man’s fly, he was swatted away.

“I don’t want you.” Negan said with venum. “Who would want you? Your girl? Your people? After you crawled over here in your birthday suit ready to let me stick my dick down your throat?”

Rick rocked back to sit on his heels, wounded.

“My boy?” he begged.

“Your boy?” Negan’s eyebrows raised. “He’s been watching the whole time, by the way.”

A cold and meaningless, “No.”

He still looked so confused, with that pretty, lost vulnerability leaving Negan unsure if he’d have liked his cock sucked after all. He looked over the leanly muscled frame, the electric blue eyes having dulled to a muddy grey, the wet lashes. If he weren’t too proud to take it by force, he might have really made him.

“Nobody’ll want you now, not for anything, will they?”

His was said with a laugh, deep in Negan’s belly like it really was funny to him.


	3. Dealing death on rainbow waters [At the shores of plastic martyrs]

The grip of the man with half a face was the first to loosen, and didn’t grip with the same crushing vice that was the hand of the mustached man.

“Brave little fucker.” he commented, shutting the door behind them.

“What are you gonna do to me?” The little boy asked boldly.

“Play cards.” The man with the half-face was seated at the table, shuffling a deck.

“Change into these, first.” The man with the mustache threw a long shirt at him, marked with a crude capital “A”. 

“What card games do you know?”

Carl shrugged.

“You know ‘Go Fish’?”

The boy kept trying to look out the window. The man with the mustache drew the curtains shut. He said, “Don’t worry about that” as if Glenn’s brains weren’t seeping into the dirt. He thought, absently, that the tree or grass or whatever grew fertilized by Glenn’s blood might have a little bit of him in it when it grew. The clearing had been dusty, lifeless, and he imagined the blood spreading to wet the dirt into a marsh where cattails would grow tall and frogs would bound from lily to lily. 

“What happens,” he asked, “when people die?”

“They come back as roamers.” The taller of the two answered, peeking through the curtains.

“Heaven,” The half-face explained. “Your momma never told you about heaven?”

He dealt out the cards, and taught Carl to match them.

“And they still go to heaven?” Carl asked, “Even after they wake up.”

He was silent for a moment and, deep in thought, said “Of course. Of course, they have to.”

“And what when…” the little boy suddenly looked ashamed, “And what when you killed people too? Do you still go to heaven?”

“If you feel bad enough about it.”

“I don’t. I don’t feel bad about Billy.”

“You killed Billy?”

“Yeah.”

“Did Billy deserve to die?” No question of who Billy was. It didn’t matter, just a way to dodge questions with no easy answer.

“No.” Carl mumbled, “But he had to. The grown-ups said.”

“They made you kill him?” The man sounded interested, now.

“No. I just had to.”

“If you had to,” the man offered, “I don’t think it counts against you.”

“Scream!” The man with the mustache ordered, starling Carl and getting the sound out of him with a second request. He took a sea at the table next to Carl, offering his hand. Carl took it.

“When I squeeze your hand, you scream.” and then added, “Or I’ll make you.”

Carl obeyed the strange request. Like the heartbeat of a dying man, light pumping squeezes reminded him to sound off. Now the man with the half-face parted the curtains. After a few minutes he announced, “Okay, now.”

They opened the curtains and Carl had only the barest context for what he saw. His father had no clothing on. He remembered that’s what the robbers had tried to do, take his clothes off, and his father tore a man’s throat out for it. He was still kneeling, close to the pants of the man with the bat. He was crying. He was pushed him onto his back and all the women in the circle tried to look away when he splayed prone in the dirt. 

The door opened and Carl was ushered out. He looked off vacantly, wondering about heaven, lingering on the bottom step of the RV. 

Sunrise was starting. 

The sky, he realized, was brain-colored


End file.
